


One Hot Summer's Night

by nekosmuse_archive (nekosmuse)



Category: Third Watch
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23578264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekosmuse/pseuds/nekosmuse_archive
Summary: Written pre 2005. Posting for archival purposes.The temperature is rising in NYC.
Relationships: Maurice Boscorelli/Faith Yokas





	One Hot Summer's Night

Most of the time, I don't miss being married. And really, Fred and I were destined to split up, either that or kill one another. It's not so much him I miss, but rather, the absence of a warm male body. I guess it boils down to, I'm horny, and it's been a long time. Too long.

I suppose I could go out and pick up some random guy. Become one of those desperate women you see in bars, willing to go home with the first man that spares them a second glance. But that's not who I am, or at least, it's not who I want to be.

It's hot tonight, and humid. Sweat clings to me, leaving my feeling damp and bothered. I've considered a cold shower, maybe turning on the fan, but I rather like the self torture. Something to remind me what it's like to work up a sweat.

The house is quiet. It's Fred's weekend with the kids. I don't mind so much anymore. It's almost nice having the place to myself. No one asking for anything, no one shouting, and no one reading the bible over the din of the television.

The sun's just setting outside, but the heat won't fade with the light. It's trapped in the air, permanently settled over the city. It hasn't broken for days. We've already had several brown outs as air conditioners went into overdrive.

I flip on the television, hoping to find something worthy of watching. I never used to watch television, maybe the odd movie, but more often then not, it was a fixture that only came on when the kids were home. Now, there's something comforting about its false light and dull sound. Not quite real, but it cuts through the loneliness all the same.

I don't find anything, but leave it on as background noise. Glancing up, I realize the room has become dark. I don't bother turning on a light, finding comfort sitting in the dark. Instead, I settle back into the couch, wincing as the fabric sticks to my skin.

The television flickers, drawing my attention. I'm immediately drawn to the half naked woman on the screen. Of course I’ve managed to give up flipping on some erotic French movie. The girl wets her lips, her eyes traveling to the man next to her. I'm once again acutely aware of how long it's been since I last had a man.

I'm not following the story, or even bothering to read the subtitles. The premise is beyond language. The heat in the room seems to intensify, but despite it, I shiver. My tank top and cut-off shorts suddenly seem restricting.

I glance down at my glass of ice tea, condensation dripping down the sides, forming a small pool on the table top. Reaching for it, I take a long sip, catching an ice cube with my tongue. I savor it for a moment, before removing it between my thumb and index finger.

It melts against my skin, water trickling down my chest, disappearing beneath my shirt. A low moan escapes my lips at the sensation. On screen, the woman removes what’s left of her clothing, baring two perfectly sculpted French breasts. My eyes dart to my own. Not nearly as perky, but I've always been rather proud of them. My nipples have formed taunt peaks, pressing against the fabric of my shirt. I slid the ice cube lower.

The feel of ice against my breast elicits another moan, louder this time. I pause before remembering I am alone. The cube melts quickly, leaving me aching and numb. I brush my finger tips across my nipples, very nearly crying out at the sensation.

Desperate for closer contact, I slip my shirt above my head, tossing it next to the sofa. I feel slightly out of place, sitting bare-breasted on my couch, the only light, moving images of slick, lust filled bodies flickering across the television screen. I hazard a glance to the door, ensuring the chain is bolted before shimmying off my shorts and underwear.

The sensation is even odder. I feel open, exposed, vulnerable, but completely aroused. The sudden vision of someone knocking, Bosco, my mind supplies, only serves to intensify my desire. I slid my hand down my stomach, pausing at the patch of soft curls below. On screen, the woman kneels before the man.

Slowly, and almost painfully, I inch lower, slipping my finger between my folds. Moisture engulfs my hand, reminding me again how long it's been. I arch back, angling my hips up to allow me access. Tentatively I push forward, caressing my inner walls with a familiarity that is too recent.

My counterpart has now allowed the man to enter her. I watch for a moment, caught by their desire, their heat. He presses into her, his actions causing her to writhe beneath him. I mimic their motions with my hand, pressing in and out at a pace too furious to be anything but desperation.

Again Bosco's image invades my brain, and I'm forced to consider what that means. Do I want him, or is he just a convenient male. I don't dwell on it too long, it's unimportant right now. My hand becomes his, replaced again by his cock, until he is driving into me, over and over, sending me into oblivion. I cum quickly, with an intensity that almost frightens me. Flushed, and slightly breathless, I lean back into couch, closing my eyes as I try to ground myself.

The ringing of the phone startles me. I’m half tempted to ignore it, not feeling right answering it stark naked. With a groan I glance at the caller ID screen.

~*~

The sound of running water echoes through the room. Cautiously, I approach the door, ensuring the bolt is locked. I've already unplugged the phone, not wanting any interruptions. It's become a weekly ritual, one I'm embarrassed to admit. But I reason, what no one knows, can't hurt me.

I'm a cop, a good cop. Tough, strong, definitely not the sort to engage in this kind of activity. It started several months ago, I'd overheard Faith talking about it, and figured it was worth a shot. Anything to help me sleep. Until recently, I couldn't remember the last time I'd gotten a good nights sleep.

I'd made the trek to the drug store in the middle of the night, not wanting questioning glances from customers. And God forbid I run into anyone I know, I'd never live it down. The process was far more complicated then I imagined. It's not like guys do this everyday, how was I supposed to know the difference between the mass quantities of products available.

I'd chosen eucalyptus, mostly because the scent was neutral, nothing overtly girly, but soothing enough to do the trick. Now, as I stand in the bathroom, watching the tub fill, I can't help but laugh. Maurice Boscorelli, locking himself in his apartment to take a bubble bath.

Don't laugh, it works. Like a charm. By the time I'm done, my muscles will be loose, my body will be numb and all the continuous thoughts running in my head will have vanished. The perfect remedy for insomnia. Outside must be pushing past one hundred degrees, but I’ve turned my air conditioner on full. It’s almost too cold, but I leave it, knowing I’ll be warm soon enough.

I leave my hat on, partly because I don't want the scent in my hair, but partly because the addition of a baseball cap seems to make the experience manly. If caught, I can always confess I was thinking of sports.

Once the water has reached the desired level, I turn the faucet off, climbing into the extremely hot water. It takes me a moment to get used to it, but I've found only hot water will do the trick. My senses are assaulted and I soon find myself beginning to relax.

I considered buying some toys. Godzilla, boats, a toy solider wearing scuba gear, but decided it might not help the cause. Instead I sink back, closing my eyes and letting the water wash over me. I can't believe more men haven't discovered this.

I wonder briefly what Faith does in the tub. Does she read? Perhaps she just sits like I am now, simply soaking away the days troubles. Or maybe she lights candles, uses the time to consider the week’s events.

The thought of Faith, neck deep in water, stirs a portion of my anatomy that shouldn't respond to the image of her nude. Not that that's stopped him before, he seems to adore Faith more then I do, which is saying quite a lot.

Without realizing what I'm doing, my hand sinks into the water, wrapping itself around my cock. I conjure up the image of Faith in a tub again, wondering if she ever does this. And if so, does she think of me? It's unlikely, but a nice fantasy.

The feel of the water, the firmness of my hand, cumulates together in what I can only describe as pure ecstasy. All around me darkness, save for the hall light, spilling through the doorway. I groan, reaching further to cup my balls.

In my mind, Faith arches forward, exposing a pale milky white breast. She falls back, the water once again obscuring her from my vision. I whisper her name, moving my hand back up, slow strokes.

Steam rises from the water, covering me in a thin film of sweat. Beads form on my forehead, dripping into my eyes, I ignore them. Faith’s hand reaches lower, tracing a path along her stomach, disappearing beneath the sea of bubbles. A low growl escapes my lips. I quicken my pace.

Fast and furious now, I’m beyond stopping, beyond caring, beyond guilt or shame. I cum with a cry, arching back, spilling my seed into the murky waters. I don’t care, I can always shower after. I sink back, resting my head on the wall. Stars dance across my vision, momentarily blinding me.

It takes me several moments before I can manage to stand. I pull the plug, allowing the water to drain before turning on the shower. Rinsed, I step out, wrapping a towel loosely around my waist.

The bath has left me hot and sticky, I move to stand in front of the air conditioner, allowing the cold, frigid air to wash over me. It feels blissful. I remain only long enough to cool down, not wanting to negate the effects of the bath. With a final breath, I move to the bedroom, intent on changing.

Four steps into the hall, the air conditioner sputters, coming to a complete halt. I curse, knowing I’ll never sleep now. Before long, heat will seep into the apartment, filling it with sticky dampness.

I dress and begin pacing the length of the room. Already the temperature is mounting, bringing with it hazy humidity. I open a window, hoping the night might provide some breeze. If anything it only makes it worse.

My thoughts turn back to Faith. I wonder if she has air conditioner. The thought of spending the night at her place sends my blood rushing south. Despite my earlier activities, the image of her, sprawled naked on her bed, leaves me hard and wanting. I reach for the phone.

~*~

My eyes seek out the flashing screen, 'M. Boscorelli' illuminates the display in aqua blue. I feel compelled to answer it. The thought of talking to Bosco reminds me of what I've just done, and that I'm still undressed. For some reason, my arousal returns ten fold.

"Hey," I state, not trusting myself to form coherent sentences.

"Hey, you okay?" he asks, his tone automatically becoming protective.

"Fine, why?" I ask, somewhat confused.

"You just sound out of breath," he tells me. I blush.

"Just ran for the phone, that's all," I explain, hoping he won't question the lie.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to grab a drink or something?" he asks. "My air conditioner just died, and it's starting to get hot as hell over here," he explains as if to justify the request.

I let my first comment die on my lips, not really wanting to tell Bosco exactly how hot it is in here. I'm not sure I want to go out, but I find myself suddenly wanting nothing more than to see him.

"Alright, you want to meet somewhere?" I ask.

"Nah, I'll pick you up," he tells me before hanging up.

I stare at the phone for a moment before hanging it up. I dress quickly, flicking off the television and turning on the fan before moving to the bathroom. Too wide eyes and tussled hair stare back at me from the mirror. I avert my gaze, bending down to run cold water. Splashing my face, I feel refreshed, renewed and slightly more relaxed. I run a quick brush through my hair, the tangles pulling with each stroke.

It’s too hot to change, but my attire isn’t appropriate, so I do. Jeans and a clean t-shirt, casual, yet elegant. Or at least, that’s the impression I’m trying to give. Being married, you never needed to worry about what you were wearing. You’re not a woman, you’re a wife, and mother. Now, all that’s changed.

The knock on the door comes too soon. I jog down the hall, my eyes seeking out anything out of place, anything that might suggest what I’d spent the evening doing. I know I shouldn’t feel shame, or awkwardness, but I do. Married women don’t masturbate in their living room while watching erotic foreign films.

~*~

I stare at the phone, not actually believing what I’ve done. The room seems to shrink in size, the phone staring up at me mockingly. I avert my gaze, not wanting to contemplate my decision. It’s too late to take back now. I pocket my keys, doing one final sweep of the apartment before heading out the door, into the hot night air.

I make it to her apartment in record time, pausing only momentarily before knocking on the door. I wait, my breath catching in my throat. I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to say, or how she’s going to respond.

The door opens, warmer air wafting from her apartment. My hopes for an air conditioned sleep are dashed. I take in her appearance, noting her too recently brushed hair and flushed complexion. For a moment, I’m concerned I might have interrupted her. It never occurred to me that she might have company.

“Hey,” I state, feeling stupid for not being able to come up with something better.

“Hey, you ready to go?” she asks, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

“Yeah,” I respond, trying to focus anywhere but her now wet lips.

~*~

Neither of us speak as we make our way down the stairs and to his car. I catch the brief scent of eucalyptus, but it’s gone as soon as it came. He doesn’t open my door for me, not that I was expecting him to. I slide into the passenger side, the leather cool against my skin. Bosco pulls away from the curb before breaking the silence.

“You want to go anywhere in particular?” he asks.

“I don’t care, somewhere cold,” I respond. It’s still too hot, but I don’t think that has anything to do with the weather.

He nods, making a sharp right and speeding down the street. Bosco drives every car like it’s an RMP, I don’t mention this one lacks bright lights on its roof. Several minutes later he pulls in front of an unknown bar. Harsh neon lights flicker against worn red brick, bathing the street in blue. I don’t bother reading the name.

Inside, several tables line the walls, several others fill the space in-between. There’s a fairly large crowd, but the place is air conditioned, so I don’t complain. We somehow manage to find seats in the back, away from the noise.

He orders beer, I follow suit. I watch as he takes a long, slow sip, the liquid spilling over his lips, caressing his tongue. I don’t realize I’ve growled until his eyes meet mine, his eyebrow arching skyward.

“You alright?” he asks, clearly amused.

“Just hot, and thirsty,” I reply, taking a sip of my own beer.

He nods, his eyes twinkling in the dimly lit bar. I try not to blush, but fail miserably. I’m suddenly aware of just how close we’re sitting, our knees practically touching. He smiles over at me, taking another sip of his beer. I feel my heart begin to race. Definitely eucalyptus.

“You want to get out of here?” The question’s out before I can stop myself. I didn’t mean to sound so needy, and certainly not so desperate. I brace myself for his laughter, his rejection. I’m surprised when it doesn’t come.

~*~

The question takes me by surprise, and for a moment, all I can do is stare at her. Hope surges through me and I chastise myself, knowing she isn't implying what I think she is. Not Faith. Faith would never see me that way.

"Sure, you got someplace else in mind?" I ask, my voice far softer then I'd intended.

"No, not really, I just....never mind," she replies.

Okay, now I'm confused. Hot, aroused, and confused. Not a good combination. I take another swig from my beer, letting the cool liquid slide down my throat. I watch as she again wets her lips, my mind screaming at me to say something, anything. My tongue remains frozen against my teeth.

She's playing with her label now, peeling back paper, ever so gently. Her eyes stare intently at the bottle, refusing to meet my gaze. Despite the air conditioned bar, it's still hot. Too hot.

"We could head back to my place, see if we can get the air conditioner working, maybe watch a movie or something?" I suggest, needing to break the stillness.

Her head jerks up at that, her eyes wide and bright. I briefly wonder if I've offended her. I open my mouth to take it back, make some joke, anything to brush it off. She speaks before I have a chance to get out a word.

"Okay," she replies.

I clamp my jaw shut, nodding slightly. Reaching into my pocket, I take out a ten, tossing it onto the table. It should cover the beer, and leave a nice tip. I'm too preoccupied to care about change.

She slides from the table, her movements almost hypnotic. I follow her to the car, wondering what we'll do when we actually get back to my apartment.

~*~

My stomach tenses as Bosco turns the ignition, the car revving to life. I feel like some hussy, agreeing to go home with him after one drink. Still, it's not like he implied anything. Just a movie, and possibly a working air conditioner. Two friends, hanging out, that's all. So why am I suddenly worried I haven't shaved my legs.

The car lurches to a stop, and I realize we're sitting in front of his building. I hadn't expected the trip to be so short, I need more time. Time to convince myself I want this, time to talk myself out of this. Neither will happen, so I wordlessly follow him upstairs.

He opens the door, the scent of eucalyptus once again overwhelming me. I grin, knowing I was right before. Bosco notices my smile, and actually looks sheepish, something I don't think I've ever seen before.

"I'll check on that air conditioner," he tells me, leaving me to discard my shoes and purse.

I sink into his sofa, noting the softness of the fabric. I haven't really been here that many times, and I don't think I've ever sat on his couch. For some reason, it surprises me. From across the room, the sound of Bosco's muttered curses, interspersed with the occasional clanking of fist against metal, fills the silence. He throws his hands in the air, uttering one final curse before coming over to sit next to me.

"Sorry, I think it's dead," he explains.

"That's alright, it's not too hot in here," I lie.

"You need anything?" he asks, glancing over to me.

I'm half tempted to tell him exactly what I need, but the words die on my lips. Instead I shake my head, silently telling him no.

"I have beer, it's cold," he offers.

"Well, if it's cold," I reply, smiling softly.

He nods. I watch as he stands, walks towards the kitchen. I can't help but focus on his retreating backside. If there's one thing you can say about Maurice Boscorelli, he's got a great ass.

I'm still staring when he returns. Again I'm given the look, the one that suggests amusement, confusion, and something I can't name. I shrug, trying and failing not to blush.

"Thanks," I say, reaching for my beer. Our fingers brush, causing me to shiver.

"No problem," he replies, reclaiming the seat next to me.

Settled, he leans forward, grabbing the remote before sitting back. The sudden noise of the television startles me, causing me to choke on a mouthful of beer. He turns his attention to me, patting me awkwardly on the back.

"Sorry, you alright?" he asks, his concern evident.

"Yeah, I'm…." my words are cut off as my attention is drawn to the television. They must be having some sort of marathon.

Whether Bosco notices my gaze, or merely hears the moans emanating from the screen, he turns, his eyes widening. He fumbles for the remote, pressing button after button until the screen becomes dark, the room once again bathed in silence.

"Um, I wasn't, I mean…" he trails off, flustered.

Under any other circumstances, I'd probably find the situation humorous. But now, all I can think about is my earlier activities. The ones that obviously did nothing to satiate my arousal.

It suddenly occurs to me that we're being idiots. Two grown adults, no attachments, dancing around one another like children. The thought makes me laugh, earning a puzzled look from Bosco. Grinning, I reach across, taking the remote from his hand. I flick on the television, setting the remote aside. Bosco watches me, silent, save for the occasional strangling noises he keeps making. I smile, sinking back into the couch to enjoy the film.

~*~

I'm not entirely sure what I'm supposed to be doing right now. Beside me, Faith lounges, looking completely comfortable. A coy smile plays on her lips, widening as she takes in my discomfort. But how can I not be uncomfortable? I'm hot, hard as hell, and watching porn with my partner.

Okay, so the last bit isn't bad, I mean, it's not like I haven't played out this fantasy a million times. But never did I expect it to become reality. And now, as the images of sweat covered bodies dance in my peripheral vision, I can't help but wonder what's going on in Faith's head.

I think she might actually find this amusing. I can tell by that little twinkle she gets in her eyes. Yeah, she's laughing her ass off. Well, two can play at this game. Smiling, I lean back, stretching my arm across the back of the couch. Oh yeah, that surprised her.

She doesn't say anything, merely sinks further into the couch, her hair brushing across my hand. I turn my attention to the screen, pretending to be completely absorbed by it. Truthfully, the only thing I can think about is the woman next to me. I stretch my hand, allowing my fingertips to brush against her hair, playing with it. I notice her eyes close, and I smile.

I'm not sure if I moved, or she did, but suddenly we're sitting close, very close. I'm not even being subtle about playing with her hair, and she's not subtle about noticing. I don't think either of us are watching the television. I shift my leg, bringing it along side hers, pressing into her. She moans, it's faint, but I catch it.

Leaning forward, I pick up the remote, turning off the television. For a moment I feel Faith tense. I wait for her to relax before turning back to her. Her eyes are wide, her skin flushed. Reaching forward, I take her hand, linking our fingers together.

I give her a moment, a chance to pull away. When she doesn't, I stand, pulling her to her feet. I gaze into her eyes, taking a moment to search their depths. Finding only arousal and desire, I begin leading her down the hall, towards my bedroom. I pause at the doorway.

"I think you know what I want, and I'm pretty sure you want the same thing. But if you don't, then now would be a good time to say something," I say, needing to give her one last chance. I don't think I could handle her regretting this.

She smiles, only that, no words. It's enough of an answer for me. I all but pull her into the dark room. Stopping in front of the bed, I turn to face her, our hands still linked together. I'm suddenly frozen, the thought of even kissing Faith terrifying.

She seems to sense my awkwardness, and moves forward, pressing her body against mine. She pulls her hand free, her arms snaking around my waist. She smiles before leaning forward, her eyes closing.

The kiss starts out fairly chaste, soft. I relish the feel of her lips against mine, their texture, their ripeness. It soon intensifies, building until I can no longer tell where I end and she begins.

Our clothing lands in a soft pile, her jeans, followed by mine. My shirt, buried beneath hers. Her bra, landing in a pile of it's own. My fingers dance across her skin, my tongue following behind, mimicking their path. Faith's hands kneed the muscles across my back, her nails raking into my skin.

We fall to the bed, heedless of anything but one another. I can't seem to stop touching her, stop tasting her. I explore ever part of her. The soft skin behind her knees, and at her ankles. The firmness of her breasts. The coarseness of her pubic hair. The tenderness of the nap of her neck.

She engages in her own exploration, tasting the salt of my chest, my arms, my legs. She feels the weight of my balls, strokes the hardness of my cock. Her tongue teases my nipples, her teeth pulling against my earlobes. And her hands, everywhere at once, strong, soft, powerful, yet so gentle. They leave fire in their wake, igniting not just my body, but my soul.

I lay her back against the mattress, easing her knees apart, spreading her before me. She tastes of spiced wine, rich, dark and intoxicating. I watch with fascination as she cums, her head thrashing against my pillows, her hands clenching the sheets.

I lay beside her, watching as she regains control, her body shuddering. My hand traces patterns on her stomach, lightly tickling the soft skin there. I kiss the side of her breast, waiting for a sign to continue.

She gives it, sitting forward and pushing me on my back. I let her take control, trusting her completely. She straddles my legs, brushing her breasts across my chest as she leans forward to kiss me, tasting herself on my tongue.

I can feel her heat, smell her arousal, taste her lingering scent. She rubs herself against me, causing me to arch forward, moan. She laughs, her voice light and musical. I find myself smiling, every molecule in my body humming with energy.

Pulling away, I lean to the nightstand, pulling out a condom. Faith takes the package from me, tearing into the foil. She places it on me almost tenderly, her fingers like ghosts, skimming across the surface. She tosses the foil to the ground before reclaiming her position.

She takes my length in hand, positioning me at her entrance. Slowly, she sinks down, rocking gently against me. I grab her hips, moving beneath her, meeting her stroke for stroke. Her hands lay splayed across my chest, supporting herself as she lifts, and then sinks back onto me.

Our pace becomes frantic. I roll us over, placing her on her back. She wraps her legs around me, angling her hips up to bring me deeper. I press into her, over and over and over again. Our cries the only sound in the room.

I feel her walls flutter as her own orgasm tears through her. I release a breath, allowing myself to follow behind, her name a mere whisper on my tongue.

~*~

I'm dimly aware of Bosco collapsing against me, kissing my collar bone. My head is swimming, my vision blurry, stars dancing across my line of sight. I feel him shift, pulling us to our side, wrapping himself around me. He places another kiss on my forehead, before resting his own against mine. I smile, relishing the feel of a warm body next to me. The fact that its Bosco's, only makes it that much more amazing.

I have a feeling, it's going to be a long, long time, before I use the phrase, it's been a long, long time.


End file.
